


Moving to the Rhythm of Our Hearts

by Winifred_Zachery



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post S3, a little fluff, intimacy of vertical bodies, naughty thoughts in public spaces, not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:07:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winifred_Zachery/pseuds/Winifred_Zachery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>University functions are always a bit dull for Will, yet he doesn't mind accompanying Hannibal on occasion. A little jealousy looks really good on Hannibal and his husband usually rewards him nicely afterwards. So Will decides to reward his husband as well - by getting just a bit physical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving to the Rhythm of Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second attempt at Hannigram (first one will be published soon, I promise!). I'd love to hear read what you think!
> 
> Beta'd by Dex Suntansatan who did a wonderful job!

The room is full of lights, candles and chandeliers reflecting in crystal and polished wood and ladies’ necklaces that rest across overabundant bosoms. Will’s eyes can’t quite follow all of the movement, the shining eyes of the dancers, the sparkling dresses and the men’s shiny leather shoes.

Will tries to focus his gaze, stares into his whisky where the ice is slowly melting, glistening, but it’s still too much visual stimulation. He takes a sip, the liquor almost uncomfortably cold on his tongue. He should have listened to Hannibal and skipped the ice. There isn’t enough booze in his system yet, he feels uncomfortable. This is no different from the first time Hannibal dragged him to an event like this.

Will remembers it was another university function, the welcome party for a new colleague in the department. Hannibal is a guest lecturer for a semester here in Prague, so he had to attend. He also decided that since it is Europe, and way more liberal than the States, that it was fine to bring his husband along and introduce him to his peers. Will remembers feeling decidedly uncomfortable, but people hadn’t thrown them a second glance back then and instead just stuck to small talk about the weather, the city, and academic topics that had Will bored in about a minute.

This function is just the same in that regard, except maybe that Will recognizes some faces and some of the faces recognize him. He briefly talks to Stella Pech, a raven-haired beauty of about twenty who has recently married one of the younger professors. Who is still almost old enough to be her father, Will thinks, but keeps the thought to himself. They speak of the music and the food that was served earlier that they both really enjoyed. They complain about the long hours the professors spend at university on weekdays. He thinks she’d rather go out to a club. Her outfit (a short pencil skirt and glittery halter top) would certainly fit better in one, too. She looks a bit cheap despite the Gucci bag she clutches to her hip with both hands.

Will is dressed to kill, and he still feels a bit like James Bond in the sharp tuxedo Hannibal helped him pick out. It’s a more modern cut than what his partner prefers, but it suits him. He likes the dark charcoal grey color and the fabric feels nice on his skin. The only thing missing is the gun. He’s afraid he might spill his drink down his front and ruin the horrendously expensive piece, and thinks the shape makes him appear a little on the skinny side, but he loves the looks Hannibal sometimes throws him when the older man thinks he’s not looking.

Hannibal is dressed to match, the suit a different, more conservative cut but the same charcoal grey, though run through with threads of electric copper. The pocket square matches and though it seems like a gold striped tie would clash horribly with the whole ensemble, Hannibal manages to pull it off. He garners admiring glances from men and women alike. With his hair gelled back neatly, freshly shaved jawline and flawless posture Will can’t blame them. His husband is devilishly handsome.

Members of both sexes want him. They saunter over, some leaving their partners behind, hoping to draw the Doctor’s attention. Will doesn’t mind that his husband catches eyes - he knows who will be the one to take him home at the end of the night. And he knows from experience what is waiting for them there, because, just like last time, Hannibal has tempted him with all sorts of promises, told him about the treats in store for him as a reward for an evening out. Hannibal knows that Will would have gone anyway, yet he still likes to sweeten the deal for him.

The last ball wasn’t all that different, really, except maybe that Hannibal let himself be lured away from Will’s side the first time, leaving him alone and out of his depth.

That hadn’t been a very comfortable sensation, Will remembers. Too much noise, too many emotions liberated by alcohol and dancing, too much falseness and playing pretty. He had felt quite overwhelmed. And suddenly there was this man, handsome, with black hair that was cropped quite short, distinctive jawline, dark eyes sparkling beneath bushy eyebrows telling of the man’s eastern European heritage. The stranger had breathed a sigh of relief when he had appeared next to him, as if glad to have escaped from whatever uncomfortable social sensation he had just left behind. 

Will remembers smiling politely, not interested in any more flat and mindless conversation. The other man had introduced himself and Will had forgotten his name almost immediately. What he hasn’t forgotten is the way the other man had suddenly been a little too close to him, their shoulders touching and one hand coming to rest at his back, too intimate to be anything but a come-on.

He had shaken the guy’s hand off, but remained for a brief conversation, until another guest had appeared, a blond woman of about Hannibal’s age with botoxed lips and siliconed boobs barely contained in a long red evening gown. Not his thing, even though he generally found older women quite attractive. He’d talked to the guy and the lady for a while, amused himself with watching them both falling over themselves in an effort to win his attention.

They’d both won Hannibal’s instead. Will still has to smile when he thinks about the way Hannibal’s eyes had narrowed when he’d discovered the two of them fawning over Will.

It was his own fault for leaving him alone, Will thinks. He hasn’t given Hannibal reason for jealousy and Hannibal hasn’t indicated that he believed for even a minute that Will enjoyed the pair’s attention. Will, in turn, doesn’t mind that Hannibal left him for a bit to talk to his acquaintances. They know their standing with each other. But secretly he had been more than pleased to discover Hannibal’s jealousy, and at the current moment he delights that Hannibal hasn’t moved from his side all evening. He had also been pleased with the dish of meat-stuffed onions Hannibal had served him several weeks later.

Will takes another sip of his whisky and considers whether he should just ditch the now watery liquor for a glass of champagne. In the end he doesn’t bother and simply drains the glass before handing it to a server.

Hannibal had been talking to two women, apparently two former professors with a similar area of expertise to his own, but is now moving across the room, gently and discreetly guiding Will by his elbow. Will moves with him without showing even a hint of hesitation. He can see in other people’s faces that he and Hannibal are capable of moving as one, giving the impression of a couple that has spent many years together. Yet they have only had 13 months together and Will can’t help but marvel at the fact.

Usually Will doesn’t take such a passive role, but he plays the trophy husband and allows Hannibal’s behavior for the evening. He knows his husband enjoys it when Will takes the lead, but also enjoys leading Will - in many areas of their joint lives - and he finds this balance exciting and relaxing in equal measure. He feels secure in his knowledge of Hannibal by his side and so he decides not to mind the many people pressing in closer around them once they come near the dance floor.

The department proudly announced at the beginning of the evening that they had booked a string quartet to play for the dance and as they walk across the room Will observes Hannibal listening to the music. He seems satisfied with the musicians’ skill, nodding approvingly and watching their technique for a bit. The doctor loves his music and often listens to recordings of classical pieces on the costly surround sound system he’s had installed in their home. Will isn’t all that much into music in general or classical music in particular, but he doesn’t mind listening to it. What he enjoys about it is Hannibal’s enjoyment of it. His partner’s look of enchantment at a particularly pleasant and most skillfully executed piece of music is a rare thing to behold. Will can’t help but compare it to the look Hannibal has on his face when Will is on his knees in front of him sucking him off. He is particularly fond of that look.

As he looks over now he sees Hannibal cast his gaze out across the dance floor, one hand still gently resting against Will’s side, his other arm resting at the small of his own back, making him appear even taller and a bit regal. Hannibal’s eyes follow the dancers, women in glittering dresses, their hands held loosely in their partners’, the men’s other hand sitting firmly on their waists. The steps are easy, flowing, perfectly timed. Most of them are smiling, whispering words into their partner’s ear or nodding at passing couples, all while remaining in perfect sync. Will finds this ballroom dancing rather old-fashioned, but it fits their surroundings perfectly.

Will catches Hannibal’s foot tapping out the gentle rhythm of the waltz on the floor.

His husband hasn’t asked anyone for a dance yet, though Will observes that men often do, taking their colleagues’ spouses for a spin or even the colleagues themselves, even when their own wives are present and willing to dance again. It’s apparently a thing of politeness and neither the wives nor the colleagues seem to mind.

Will wonders. It’s not like he would mind, but Hannibal hadn’t asked anybody for a dance the first time, either. Maybe he thinks it might not be the thing to do around Will. Maybe he’s just feeling too possessive today and would hate to leave Will’s side. Will didn’t ask about that back at the first event and later forgot to mention it, because it didn’t seem important. Now it suddenly is at the forefront of his mind.

The signs are there, the gently tapping foot, the almost unnoticeable sway of Hannibal’s body, the slight upward curl of his lips. Will almost missed it before, but now that he’s watching for it he can see it quite clearly. Hannibal loves to dance, to move to good music, yet he hasn’t.

Maybe he should have asked, after all. He looks away from Hannibal and watches the dancers instead. The waltz seems to be the dance of the evening and Will finds that his feet still remember some of the patterns. Molly actually insisted on having dancing lessons for a wedding dance, even though in the end it was only the two of them back in their living room, with Wally watching from the kitchen table. He hadn’t done very well back then until Molly had started pulling him along, leading while letting him lead. He’s not sure he could actually lead anybody across a dance floor with what little he remembers from their lessons.

But his observational skills are sharp as ever and Will thinks Hannibal’s show of possessiveness this evening deserves a bit of a reward.

So when there’s a short break in the music and the couples start shuffling around, splitting up, forming new pairings or leaving the dance floor for a brief rest, Will swallows his sudden nervousness down, blinks away the still too-bright lights, and runs his left hand up Hannibal’s arm from where they had been touching.

The gesture draws a surprised noise from Hannibal. His partner turns towards him instantly, where before he had been looking out at the moving couples. It’s not really a movement he could mistake for anything other than what it is, once Will’s hand stops on his shoulder. He just hopes his movements look natural enough for people not to wonder what the hell he’s doing. In the end he decides not to care. Hannibal’s hand finds its way to his waist and his eyes come to rest upon Will’s.

“Are you sure about this?” Hannibal asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, warmth and surprise obvious in his voice.

“I’m not sure I won’t embarrass you out there,” Will replies, holding Hannibal’s gaze. “But do I intend to dance with you?” He can’t help but smile just a little. “Yes.”

Suddenly he is a lot closer to Hannibal’s body than he was before, not that he minds. The hand now resting at the small of his back draws him closer and Hannibal takes his other hand and raises them up, just in time for the first strains of music to start.

“I take it you’re not looking for any adventurous moves,” Hannibal teases with a small, pleased twitch of his lips and then suddenly moves forward with a gentle push. Will shakes his head, startled by the sudden rhythm he finds himself drawn into. He loses his footing for a second but recovers immediately. Hannibal’s hand guides him, strong and sure, and Will lets him lead, taking his cues from the gentle but steady pull and push at his back. Once he listens to the music and rhythm he finds it surprisingly easy to keep up.

“No dips or twirls or anything and we should be fine,” Will reassures Hannibal, while reassuring himself. They’re off across the dance floor, moving in circles and spinning, a bit faster than Will expected. He wonders how they manage not to bump into any of the other couples, but decides he doesn’t really care, as long as Hannibal is right there taking care of him.

Once he is sure of his footing, he looks up toward his husband. Of course this isn’t anything fancy, their moves careful and visibly unpracticed, and of course Hannibal could have found a much more adept and good-looking dance partner for the evening, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Quite the opposite, in fact, Will thinks, when he catches the smile that is blossoming across Hannibal’s features. Their eyes meet and hold and Will starts feeling a little dizzy, but that has to be all the turning and not the unexpected moment of intimacy they share in the middle of so many strangers.

The music picks up speed and Hannibal changes pace with effortless grace, without making Will stumble. He can feel Hannibal’s shoulder moving beneath his hand, sense the heat of his body where their thighs brush occasionally and experience a spark of sheer joy that travels like a hot current down the paths of his empathy.

Will can read his husband like a book as Hannibal lets him see the twist of his lips grow into a nearly exuberant smile. He was right, Hannibal loves dancing. What’s more, Hannibal loves dancing with him, even though Will is probably making a fool of himself. Earlier he could feel how content his husband was just having Will by his side. Now Hannibal lets him have the satisfaction of knowing that he likes to show him off, that he is worth showing off. The intimacy, the rhythm, the movement between their bodies is what Hannibal craves and Will finds he cannot regret letting Hannibal have what he wants.

Especially not when Hannibal’s strong arms around him feel so nice and he can smell the intoxicating scent of his husband’s sweat.

It hits him then: This dancing thing is almost like sex, only with too many clothes and too many watching eyes. He suddenly wishes they were home.

The music swells into a crescendo and then dies into nothingness and Will finds himself more horizontal than vertical, Hannibal leading him into a perfect dip.

For a second Will is startled, dizzy, but before he even realizes what has happened, Hannibal has righted him and taken a small step back.

“Hannibal,” he breathes in protest, trying not to blush at being so obviously manhandled.

His partner is entirely unapologetic. “My apologies.”

Will just snorts at that. “Don’t act as if you regret it.” His frown doesn’t last long - he isn’t really displeased, anyway, and Hannibal knows it, judging by the grin he gifts Will with.

“I couldn’t resist,” Hannibal admits and the look in his eyes makes Will’s knees go soft and other parts of his anatomy firm up just a little. His husband’s arm remains a steadying presence at his waist.

“You didn’t even try,” Will replies, trying to regain some composure. Hannibal just smiles and leans close again, bowing his head towards Will’s neck just a bit.

People are watching from the side of the dance floor and Will is hyper aware of their eyes coming to rest on them, yet he can’t help but shudder when he realizes Hannibal has taken in his scent and with it the unmistakable fragrance of his arousal.

“Thank you for the dance, sweet Will.”

It takes Will a few seconds to scrape together the appropriate words for a reply. “You’re very welcome.”

“How about a round of goodbyes, my dear? Things seem to be drawing to a close.” They are not. The music sets in again, the waiters bring out more champagne and not a soul is heading for the doors. Will doesn’t mind, for various reasons. The most important being the heat in Hannibal’s eyes that promises delicious things.

Will can only nod. Later he thinks he might have been terribly rude, dragging Hannibal away without proper goodbyes after all, but he makes it up to his husband with their second dance of the evening, this time far from prying eyes and far more horizontal.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this scene form s3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AP0INvg_u40  
> You gotta love the look of joy on Hannibal's face!


End file.
